Tag: mystery

Chorus

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Ever hear of the Falling Chorus of Ghastly Cliffs?
No? It’s a fascinating story.
Imagine a gigantic gleaning amphitheater set on the edge of a cliff.
As the city residents become old and weak, they join the line down Main Street to the chorus at the cliff.
When they reach the amphitheater, they sing for all they’re worth.
Some go for a few seconds. Others, for hours.
When they’re exhausted, helpers pick them off the ground and toss them over the edge.
Another takes their place. The choir goes on forever.
It’s beautiful, except for the screams and messy splatters.

Strewn at his feet

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It is a rule of the royal palace that everywhere our liege walks, rose petals must be strewn at his feet.
Sadly, the roses were killed by unexpected frost, and it will be months before new blooms can grow.
Our master lays in bed, tied up and angry.
“All I want to do is walk to the bathroom,” he growls.
“No,” I say. “We have no roses to strew at your feet. We must carry you.”
He sighs. He knows that he is no more important than the office, and with the office comes rules.
We tighten the ropes.

One Billion

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Ever seen a billion dollars up close? Run your hands over it, or your eyes. Slowly.
Even when it’s in hundreds, it fills a room.
You can make a room out of it. Stack it up, make walls, a roof.
Maybe even live in it. But it would make more sense to buy a place with it big enough for what’s left over and you to fit comfortably.
It doesn’t take much. You’d barely miss that little bit at all.
And it wouldn’t miss you. A billion dollars doesn’t care.
It just sits there. In a room. Doing absolutely nothing.

Billy the Kid

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Feelin’ lucky tonight?
William Bonney over in Accounting was a renegade CPA who settled down and went corporate.
But during Audit Season, the Call of the West got in his blood, and he became Billy the Billing Kid.
Forms? Ledgers? Books?
He’s put them all away and reached for his sixguns.
He’d shoot down lawyers and tax agents and all sorts of credit service representatives.
Accounts Payable and Accounts Receivable became Accounts Dead when he faced off with them on Main Street at High Noon.
Billy wasn’t killed by no sheriff.
Downsizing, man. It gets us all in the end.

Supersize

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Ever try to Supersize a Happy Meal?
I’ve tried it all around the world. Every single store they have on the face of the earth. I’ve been to every stinking one of them.
And they just won’t do it.
It doesn’t matter what language they speak there or what currency they take. They just won’t do it.
It’s impossible, they say.
Nothing is impossible, I reply.
They said that I couldn’t go around the world, asking for a Supersized Happy Meal, but I have.
I hear three new stores open every day.
Let’s hit the road and try again tomorrow.

Egghead

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Perhaps you’ve noticed my massive pulsating egg-shaped head?
Frightening, isn’t it? Yes!
But why? Why is my head so disturbing to others?
It’s not hurting anyone… Now.
I don’t have horns or antlers to gore my enemies with.
And if I rub it on you, the condition is truly non-contagious.
I just have a big egg-shaped head.
Oh, it’s my gigantic brain that concerns you.
Well, does it help if I say that I just think of happy duckies and bunnies and puppies?
No?
I guess I’ll have to blow up your brain with my psychic powers!
Just kidding. Really.

Calling Myself

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I know it sounds weird, but I put myself on speed dial.
That way, when I don’t know what to do, I can always call myself.
Sometimes, I’m the one calling myself. And other times, my phone rings and it’s me.
Usually, it’s nothing important, like directions somewhere.
But the other day, I swear, I heard crying in the background.
“I can’t find the chainsaw,” said my voice over the phone.
“It’s in the shed,” I said. “What do I need it for?”
“Thank you,” I said, and I hung up.
I took myself off of speed-dial and blocked myself.

Spiders

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Sometimes, grocery shopping with Zelda the Enchantress can be scary.
“What kind of peanut butter would you like?” she asks.
Here’s where it gets confusing.
I like creamy peanut butter.
But I also like crunchy.
Creamy! Crunchy! I can’t decide!
“Spiders!” I shout.
“Spiders?” she asks. “Spider peanut butter?”
“I dunno!” I say. “I panicked.”
She shrugs. “Spider peanut butter,” she says. “And what kind of jelly? Spider jelly?”
“No,” I say. “Um… forget the spider peanut butter. And the jelly.”
“What about the bread?” she asks.
“Forget about the bread,” I say.
Oh great. Now I’m hungry for spiders.

Bottle

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Wanna hear something spooky?
I have an oversized novelty Coke bottle in my den. It’s been there for years, up on the shelf, gathering dust.
Last year, when I picked it up to dust it, it rattled.
There were a bunch of pennies in the bottle.
The thing is, it’s still had the bottlecap on it.
Sealed tight.
When I got it, it didn’t have any pennies in it.
Okay, last week, I dusted it again, and I swear, it had more pennies in there.
How are the pennies getting in there?
Who’s putting the pennies in there?
And why?

Breathing

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My bathrobe looks like it’s breathing.
Maybe it’s a trick of the light.
I woke up in the middle of the night, put on my bathrobe, puttered around a bit, pet the cat, and drank some milk.
Might as well go the the bathroom while I’m up, right?
I put my robe on the floor, take a seat, and after a few minutes, I’m looking at the robe… and… it’s breathing.
It even sounds like it’s breathing.
Or maybe I’m hearing myself breathe. It’s late, and the mind plays tricks on itself.
Maybe it’s the fan blowing.
The cat, perhaps?